1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

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1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen Page 68

by Kristen Ashley


  “Can you imagine both of us in this bed? Or hell, just me?” He looks perplexed while he studies the bed from top to bottom, which sends me into full-fledged hilarity.

  “If we stay here, you’ll have to sleep on the floor.” I manage to say through my giggles.

  His hazel eyes darken, his amusement replaced by something tangible and consuming. “Not sleepin’ on the floor, babe. I’m starting to think of a few different ways we could fit.”

  I suck in a breath and try not to fidget as electricity vibrates between us.

  Breaking the moment before we set something on fire, I shove things into my backpack. Jonah gets up from the bed and goes to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. I do a quick mental inventory of what’s there, hoping he doesn’t find anything embarrassing. Thank God, I got rid of the Kama Sutra book Eve gave me on my last birthday as a gag. Other than a Bible, some romance novels, and a few pictures, there’s nothing much to see.

  “That’s insane,” he says with wonder in his voice.

  He picks up a small framed picture that I know is of my mom. It’s the only picture I have of her. I took it before I moved out, wanting to keep something of her, even if she wanted nothing to do with me. I remember catching her on the couch after she worked late. She had taken a long, hot shower, as she always did after work. She had on a pink, cotton, floor-length nightgown. She was listening to The Temptations, staring out the window at the distant lights of Las Vegas Boulevard with a lost look on her face. I’ll never forget how her beauty clashed dramatically with the ugliness she held in her eyes. I grabbed my throw away camera and snapped the shot. She was in such a daze she didn’t even flinch. That was two years ago. I haven’t seen her since.

  “Raven, you look just like her. She’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  My chest burns with heartbreak like it does every time I think about my mom. I absently rub my chest in an attempt to push back the pain. I can’t do this right now, going from the extreme high of the last twelve hours with Jonah to this extreme low.

  Anyone up for a ride on the bi-polar coaster?

  He puts the picture back and turns toward me. There is a kindness in his eyes that makes me feel vulnerable. I look away.

  Grabbing my stuff, I remember the can of cat food and head for the door. “Ready?”

  He’s standing in the same place, his hands shoved into his pockets. I watch as something works behind his eyes, like he wants to say something but he can’t sort it out.

  With a long breath, he nods and smiles. “Yeah.”

  * * * *

  Walking up to the UFL Training Center doors, my stomach flutters with nerves. The idea of being inside a room filled with guys just like Jonah is daunting and intimidating as heck. He holds my hand as we push through the entrance and I grip him tighter.

  Air conditioning and heavy metal hum through the lobby. Bright red couches and sleek side tables line the dark gray walls. At the far wall sits a desk with a striking strawberry blond woman sitting behind it.

  Jonah tosses the lovely lady a quick chin lift. Her perky smile fades as her eyes hit me. I give her a small wave of my fingers and suppress the urge to throw her my middle one. I chalk up my aggressive attitude to all the testosterone that drips down the walls like honey.

  We make our way down a hallway lined with doors. As we near the end, I hear the vibration of male voices. They get louder and louder until we emerge from the hallway into a massive room.

  Clean sweat and the unmistakable smell of man fill the room along with the called-out directions of trainers and grunts of fighters. I slow my pace until a tug on my hand has me moving. He leads me towards the center of the gym where roughly a dozen men are grouped off in various forms of fighting. Some are fighting on a mat while others are punching and kicking bags. A few are taking a break, soaked in sweat and sucking down water, some are on the floor stretching. There is a large octagon in the middle of the room where two men are boxing. The combinations of voices and metal music bounce off the concrete walls and high ceilings, putting a palpable energy in the air.

  “Give me your backpack. I’ll put it in my locker.” I hand it to him without looking away from the activity on the floor.

  Slowly, the action stops and the room goes quiet. It’s then that I notice all eyes are on me. Crud. I look for Jonah but catch his back as he passes through the locker room door.

  Facing the room, I lift a hand to wave, my expression probably as awkward as I feel.

  “Who are you?” a handsome, older man calls out to me.

  I clear my throat. “I’m Raven.” I try unsuccessfully to control the shake in my voice.

  “That’s Jonah’s girl. She’s cool.”

  I exhale in relief at the sound of Blake’s voice.

  He makes his way over to me, and the rest of the guys stare for a minute longer before they resume their training.

  “Hey, baby girl. Where’s Jonah?”

  His shirt is off and his skin glistens with sweat. Yesterday at Jonah’s party, he never took his shirt off. I stand staring at the military tattoo that takes up one whole side of his chest, but avert my eyes to his face before I can make out what it says. He’s smiling at me in his usual charming way.

  “He went to put some stuff in his locker.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “Is it okay that I’m here? I wouldn’t want to disrupt or cause any problems.”

  “Are you kidding?” He looks at the guys over his shoulder and back to me. “You just gave these butt holes a reason to show off. They’ll probably have the best session of their lives with you here to put up for.”

  My lips twitch, fighting my smile.

  “You laugh even when I’m not trying to be funny. What’d I say?”

  I cover my mouth to muffle my giggles. “You said butt holes.”

  He shakes his head, looks to the floor then back at me. “You ever cuss, Raven?”

  My laughter dies as I contemplate his question. Of course I cuss. What adult doesn’t cuss? Ugh. Who am I kidding? I totally don’t. It’s not as if I haven’t tried. It just always sounds so stupid coming from my mouth.

  “Of course I cuss,” I lie.

  He glares at me with a playful glint in his eye. “Really?”

  “Psht. Yes.” My palms sweat, and I wonder what it is about this guy that makes me so nervous.

  “All right, fine. Hit me with one right now. Give me your nastiest curse.”

  Rocking back on his heels, he crosses his bulging arms over his muscular chest waiting.

  My mouth falls open at the ridiculousness. I snap my mouth shut and square my shoulders.

  “Okay, I will.” I race through my mind pulling up some of the least offensive curse words I can think of, all of them sounding lame even in my head. “It’s just I’m not mad right now and I never cuss unless I’m mad.” I hold my head high and pray like crazy that he’ll be intimidated by my integrity and leave it alone.

  His eyes narrow, and his smile grows by the second. “You can’t do it, can you?”

  Apparently, my integrity doesn’t intimidate; it instigates.

  “Yes, I can.” I say in a high voice that doesn’t even sound like me. What is my problem? Why can’t I just friggin’ cuss? I am not going to let him get the best of me. No way.

  “Go for it, baby girl. I’m waiting.”

  Girding my proverbial loins, I go for it.

  “Shitass!” I blurt then quickly cover my mouth with my hand. My face feels like a Molotov cocktail as the blush takes over my cheeks and neck.

  Blake’s face is stoic for two beats before he throws his head back in a booming laugh that gets the attention of every guy in the room. This, of course, does not help my situation. It’s possible, I discover, to have a full-body blush.

  “That was fuckin’ awesome.” He bends over, sucking in breath.

  “What’s going on over here, Blake?” Jonah’s voice demands as he marches up to us. “Why does my girl look like you just flas
hed her?”

  “Dude, she said, ‘shitass.’ I’ve never heard a sweet curse word before.”

  He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. “Of course, it’s sweet. She isn’t capable of anything less.”

  My body melts into him, and my blush recedes at the safety of his touch.

  “Right. You ready to warm up?” Blake says, a whisper of amusement still lighting his face.

  “Yeah, let me get Raven set up and I’ll be right there.”

  “Cool.” Blake’s eyes move from Jonah to me. He shakes his head. “You’re something else, baby girl.” Walking away, I hear him mumble something that sounds like lucky bastard.

  Jonah’s body tenses at my side, drawing my eyes to him. He looks down at me, and I watch the tension leave his face. “You all right?”

  “Of course.” Thanks to him.

  “Blake’s not so funny anymore, is he?”

  I shrug, slide my arms around Jonah’s middle and rest my cheek against his chest. “No, he’s still funny.”

  He chuckles and tugs me to move. “Come on. Let’s find you somewhere to sit.”

  We walk to a row of chairs, and he tells me to take a seat. A firm kiss on the lips, then one to the side of my neck, and he moves to meet Blake and Owen in the octagon.

  Taking in my surroundings, I notice gigantic posters on the walls, each depicting a different fighter. I make my way past each one, studying the fighters I recognize until I land on Jonah’s.

  His poster is by far the most enticing. The photo was taken at an angle, his head turned to face the camera. His eyebrows are dropped low making his eyes look black, and I’m transfixed by the fierceness of his face. No dimples or sexy grin, just pure focus. His lethal arms, posed in punching position, look huge as the vibrant colors of his tattoos intensify the cuts of his muscles. A shiver runs through my body and I turn away to find my seat.

  I take a chair up close and set my attention to Jonah in the octagon. It doesn’t take long before I’m gasping for air with my hand covering my mouth to keep from crying out. Watching Jonah in action is terrifyingly beautiful. He moves like a predator, graceful yet powerful. His punches and kicks are controlled as he commands his body. On the mat, as he rolls in a tangle of arms and legs, there’s no doubt he was born for this.

  “Baby! Come here.” Jonah’s command is terse with loss of breath.

  I look up in horror and point to my chest. Who me?

  He smiles, nods, and waves me over.

  “This is going to be embarrassing,” I say to no one in particular as I push myself up and head his way.

  “I’m going to teach you an arm bar.”

  Owen leaves the octagon, giving me a sweet smile. “Good luck, princess.”

  My eyes find Blake who is covering his mouth, but his eyes give away his amusement. Oh, real nice.

  Jonah and Blake demonstrate a few times, both of them explaining each step in detail with the clarity of professional fighters. I hang on every word, determined to get it right and not make a complete idiot out of myself.

  Their instruction complete, they call me over to try. Lying with my back to the mat, I do exactly what I’m shown. After a few minor adjustments, I have Jonah’s forearm in my hands. His arm runs the length of my body down through my legs. His shoulder rests between my thighs and my calves are locked around his torso. I thrust my hips forward.

  “Fuck.” He makes a pained grunt, but I continue to hold him in place. “You got it.”

  “I did it!” I could break the arm of a man at least twice my size by a thrust of my hips.

  Power surges through me and I’m suddenly flipped. Jonah has his huge body wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, his mouth at my ear.

  “Yeah, baby. You did it. I’m proud of you.” He whispers before nuzzling my neck and dropping lingering kisses on my earlobe.

  I shiver.

  “That’s my girl.” He releases me and pulls me to my feet.

  Blake is off to the side of the mat. “This,” he indicates by waving his hand back and forth between me and Jonah, “is freaking me the hell out.” He waves us off then stalks away.

  I shrug my shoulders and look to Jonah who has both dimples out in full force.

  “You’re not the only one,” he mumbles.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Eleven

  Jonah

  “Still with the same girl. Gotta say, brother, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Owen and I are in the kitchen at the training center, shooting the shit and powering down protein shakes.

  “I wasn’t sure I had it in me either, but here I am, one full week.” Pride warms my chest every time I think about the longest and only relationship I’ve ever had. It isn’t at all like I thought it’d be. She doesn’t bug me to buy her shit, ask me to get her into the most exclusive clubs, or fill my bathroom with her girlie crap. I can’t even get her to leave clothes at my house. She’s always tossing clothes in and out of her backpack.

  After that first night, she put up a fight about staying over the next two. Until I told her that I’d personally go and feed Dog every morning if it meant having her warm body in my bed every night. And every night since, she tries to leave again, only agreeing to stay once I kiss her until she surrenders.

  “You still haven’t slept with her.”

  Bringing my cup to my mouth, my arm stalls out in midair and I glare at my friend. “How did you know that?”

  He swallows a gulp of his shake. “I didn’t.” A grin spreads across his face. “But I do now.”

  Fuck.

  “Figured you’re keeping her around for a reason. What’s the hold up?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  Owen’s deep laughter bangs against my every nerve. I could lie. Tell him that she’s a virgin and I’m holding off until she’s ready. The first part’s true. The last part’s the lie. She’s ready. Her words haven’t said it, but her body has screamed it.

  “I’m just surprised, man. You have her in your bed every night. How can you, of all people, not fuck her?”

  “Owen.” The caution in my tone forces him to roll his eyes before he studies me silently.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” His words are almost a whisper. “I had a feeling, but I wasn’t sure.”

  I toss my empty cup into the sink a little harder than I need to. This entire conversation is pissing me the fuck off. “Sure about what?”

  “You love this girl.”

  Irritation is sucked from my body along with my breath. Love her. Do I?

  “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never even taken a girl out unless it was something UFL related. You use woman to get off, move on, and never look back. And now here you are, looking like you’re about to take me out for asking why you haven’t fu—had sex with her yet.”

  I’m hearing his words, but still processing his earlier statement. I remain close-lipped.

  He starts laughing, then harder, and points at my face. “Yeah, man. That’s the face. You love her.”

  “But it’s only been a week. People don’t fall in love in a week.”

  “The hell they don’t? I knew I was in love with Nik on our first date. No question.”

  We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Mornings are spent working on the Impala until she goes to Guy’s garage and I go train. Nights, she’s back at my house where we cook together, eat together, watch television together and—Holy crap. We’re my parents.

  Maybe I do love her.

  I wipe the sweat from my forehead, feeling suddenly faint. Must be from the intense training session. Yeah, that’s all it is.

  “So now that we’ve established that, what’s the real reason you’re holding out?” He leans against the counter.

  He’d never understand why I haven’t slept with Raven. Hell, I’m still trying to figure it out. It’s not that I don’t want to. I want to, badly. So badly, I’ve had to sit in a cold sho
wer for forty-five minutes after making out with her. Every time we get close, I hold back. The rejection I see in her eyes when I shut her down makes me want to kick my own ass.

  “What if I . . . I don’t know, screw things up?”

  Owen’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Dude, if practice makes perfect, you should have your PhD in sex. Pretty sure you won’t screw it up.”

  “That’s not what I meant, fuckwad.”

  He pins me with his stare. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose interest after you do it.”

  I blink my eyes, absorbing his words, and conclude that my friend is a genius.

  “Yes, exactly, I’m afraid my fucked-up head will ruin things with Raven.”

  “This is different though, Jonah. I’m telling you the way you feel about Raven you might as well be a virgin too. This is going to be a first for both of you. Be prepared to have your mind blown, my brother. There is nothing like making sweet love to the girl you feel it for.”

  I remain silent, mulling over Owen’s revelation. He’s right. I have a problem with getting attached to people on an intimate level. I always assumed that my hit-’em-and-quit-’em mentality was intentional. That I never sleep with the same girl twice because I don’t have to.

  But I’m seeing things more clearly. A deep dark part of me whispers that it’s because I lost my dad. That getting close to someone is a risk because of the potential pain in losing them. And having sex with Raven, combined with the fact that I’ll be her first, will be devastating. She’ll probably see it as solidifying our relationship, and I’ll subconsciously put her in the I-came-I-conquered file.

  Unless Owen’s right. Could it be different this time? It sure as shit feels different. Fighting has always dominated my brain space, until her. I have to believe my old ways won’t fuck this up for me. I have to.

  ~*~

  Raven

  On an impulse, and an urgent need to update my lingerie collection as new boyfriend status dictates, I talked Eve into meeting me at the mall. Browsing around Victoria’s Secret is a new experience now that I’m shopping with someone in mind. Every piece I pick up, I imagine Jonah’s reaction to it. I can picture myself in each one, and in doing so, practically feel his eyes on me.

 

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